


Intrigue

by GalahGriff



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: < that's why i have the rating & warning. it's not that graphic but proceed w caution anyways !, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Beta Read, Other, Reader-Insert, gender neutral reader, made with a specific legendsona in mind but it's still a reader insert !, reader is a healing-class legend, short & sweet oneshot rushed in an evening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahGriff/pseuds/GalahGriff
Summary: “Nice to finally meet you, Caustic.”“Likewise.” He says, bloodshot eyes taking in the depth of their own as they return his gaze, unflinching.
Relationships: Caustic | Alexander Nox/Original Character(s), Caustic | Alexander Nox/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Intrigue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soulheartthewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulheartthewolf/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy, Wolfy(...and any other Caustic selfshippers out there) :}

Their eyes, striking and bright, hold the doctor’s own piercing stare. Their banner gleams from the display in the middle of the dropship, a worthy fighter of their own right, having climbed the ranks all the way to a legend status, standing tall and proud amongst the other competitors. A person who may prove to be an intriguing test subject amongst the experiments conducted down below.

They divert their gaze as engineer and fool, Mirage, swaggers over to them and begins the useless ritual of blabbering the new legend’s ear off.

Caustic turns away from the debacle of Witt stumbling over himself, having witnessed the man’s idiocy too many times for comfort. As he steps up on the platform with the rest of his assigned squad, he allows himself the hope that this new competitor will give him an interesting perspective on his methods.

And then they drop.

He doesn’t encounter the new legend for a majority of the game, right up until the final few rounds. With three squads left and the next ring closing in an open part of the swamps, Caustic bides his time, attentively looking out the window of the shack he’s fortified with gas traps, trying to formulate the best possible positioning he could take in the next ring as his squadmates whine and whinge like imbeciles about having to leave their precious cover.

When the ring starts to close, everything unravels with exceptional speed. All three squads run headfirst into each other’s chaotic spray of bullets and grenades alike. The unfortunate squad to be caught in the middle of the firefight takes most of the damage and soon falls to the hail of projectiles from his team and, he notes, the new legend’s.

The open space provides minimal cover, but Caustic uses the small ring to his advantage and tosses a canister of his _Nox Gas_ into the fray. The remaining squad begin to hack their lungs out, movements becoming sluggish as they fight to breath. His own team, gathered behind him, haphazardly aim down their sights to the struggling opponents. 

And then, with a shout, the new legend raises their arms and his sight is assaulted with glowing light. He feels his energy deplete, and realizes through the shock of the alien sensation that their teammates, somehow strengthened by their ultimate, have gunned down his squad. He collapses unceremoniously as the last of his health drains away.

Caustic startles to consciousness in his respawn chamber. The screen in front of him plays footage of the champion squad, zooming into his killer’s delighted expression, their eyes wide and glimmering with glee. His statistics for the match soon following.

An interesting subject, indeed.

He observes them keenly on the dropship before the next match. They hold themselves in a nonthreatening manner as they make friendly conversation with the others. He wonders how such an individual came to hold such power and would utilize it in a bloodsport of all things.

With his luck, Caustic is teamed up with the aforementioned legend. They step up on the platform with him and their third squadmate, the corner of their eyes crinkling as they softly smile at him.

“Nice to finally meet you, Caustic.”

“Likewise.” He says, bloodshot eyes taking in the depth of their own as they return his gaze, unflinching.

They drop at Caustic’s command. Throughout the match he takes in the complex mechanism wrapping around their upper body. The mechanism, he observes, that allows them to rejuvenate him at the cost of their own health and transfer the life force of opposing teams to their own squad mates.

The stoic scientist finds himself drawn to the good natured, caring, and self sacrificial healer, harboring technology of the likes he’s never heard of in anything but fiction and theory.

He tells himself at first that the exponentially larger amount of time he spends with them outside the game and dropship is an effort to observe their abilities. Though, with the passing seasons of the games and garnered mutual respect— not to mention the casual takeout dining, brief mindless off times spent watching and commenting on films, and the long hours he spends with them comfortably working on their individual research, bouncing ideas off each other between periods of silence, for instance— Caustic finds it easier to admit to himself that he enjoys this particular legend’s increasing presence in his day-to-day life.

Tonight, they’ve agreed to hosting the, now common, research session(of sorts) at their own home. From his usual spot on their couch, he watches them brew coffee, endearingly yawning as they patter around the kitchen. They make their way back to him and the mess of scattered papers on the coffee table, placing the mugs down on their respective placemats before plopping back down beside him with a sigh.

He picks up his coffee, _“I MAKE HORRIBLE SCIENCE PUNS, BUT ONLY PERIODICALLY”_ printed in all it’s punny glory on the ceramic, and sips.

“Thank you.” Caustic smiles at them sincerely.

Their eyes shine over their _“CELL-FIE”_ printed mug.

“It’s no problem.” They smile back at him.


End file.
